


A Broken Heart is Blind

by doctoralanabloom



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent from Alana finding out on, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Multi, the zellana takes a while and doesn't dominate the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctoralanabloom/pseuds/doctoralanabloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the characters of Hannibal actually had respect for Alana? Read on to find out. (feat. Hannibal going to jail, Will Graham trying and failing to apologize, Zee and Alana bonding, Alana actually dealing with her trauma, Jack and Alana friendship, and more!) Title and chapter headers are a reference to the song Little Black Submarines by the Black Keys. Give it a listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oh, can it be?

When they tell Alana, when they show her the actual proof, show her Freddie alive and well, she runs out of the lab and into the men’s toilets to vomit. She doesn’t cry, which surprises her, and she wonders if maybe she had seen it coming. Maybe she had believed Will the whole time and just not wanted to. (Who could blame her? It was by leaps and bounds easier.) She wipes stomach acid off of her lips with toilet paper and Brian Zeller recognizes her shoes which are a bit out of place on the men’s room floor. He pauses in front of the urinal and decides that this isn’t the right moment to take a piss.

“Hey,” he says gently, “Alana? Are you all right?” She coughs, spits, and flushes the toilet before getting up, smoothing out her dress, and opening the door.

“I’ve been better,” she says and her eyes are dangerously bright. A wry and tight smile accompanies the statement. “Have you spoken to Jack lately? Or Freddie Lounds?” Her voice has an edge that Zeller is able to recognize as angry even though her face is hiding it.

“They told you,” he observes.

“How long have you all been keeping me in the dark?” An arched eyebrow; it’s not a threat, but it easily could be.

“I think we both know that I didn’t have any say in that,” he says carefully. Alana cocks her head in admission, eyebrows flicking up frustratedly.

“Fair enough.” A beat. “But... how long has it been? Really. I need to know.” Her voice is steely.

“That’s the kind of thing you should probably ask Jack.”

“I know,” she replies evenly. “I’m asking _you_ to tell me.”

“We’ve been trying to string together evidence since, um. Since Bev…” He doesn’t finish, nor does he have to. Alana nods, her throat drying up.

“That long, huh?” Zeller looks at his shoes and doesn’t nod and Alana gives his arm a squeeze.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” A beat while he looks at her. He’s relieved, but it doesn’t show. “I just wanted to hear it from someone I trust.” She leaves him in the bathroom looking a little bewildered, and it’s in the hallway back to Jack’s office that it hits.

Suddenly Alana feels cold and before she has the time to brace herself, a sob slithers its way out from her throat and into the stale air of the BAU. She clutches her stomach and gasps for air, folding over herself and settling down to her knees by a water fountain. Jack sees her, thankfully, and shuttles her into his office. Tears stream down her face. She’d protest, normally, being treated delicately after having been so blatantly humiliated mere minutes before, but she’d rather grieve (or whatever it is she’s doing) in private. He settles her in a chair and sits with one chair in between them, both providing her with a bit of space and maintaining a sense of solidarity. She props herself up on one arm, hand spread over her forehead, and the other is curled into a fist in her lap that leaves marks on her palm where her nails dig into the skin. She cries quietly now, the sobs that wrack her body are filled with noiseless air. Jack doesn’t push her to speak, just waits there until she is ready.

“I let this happen,” she says finally, her voice hoarse and rough.

“No,” Jack says, unable to keep a tone of warning out of his voice, “you didn’t know this was coming any more than the rest of us did. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop this.”

“I could have listened to Will,” she says bitterly.

“Based on what?” He peers at her face, but she doesn’t look at him. “Blind faith? There were stacks of evidence against him. None of us believed him.”

“Beverly did,” she says quietly, and in the moment she isn’t sure why the words come out of her mouth. Guilt, perhaps, that Beverly died when Alana could have exposed Hannibal before Will had even gone to jail, sparing her life and countless others. (She was close to Hannibal (is close to him?); she could have done it without him ever suspecting a thing.) Or maybe it is simply her acerbic wit, sensing a nerve and putting pressure on it because she feels defensive. Either way, it is an ugly comment and she wishes she could take it back.

“Yeah, Beverly did. And we lost her. You think I could handle losing you too?” The comment, probably not meant to hold much weight, just an acknowledgement of their friendship, makes Alana want to burst into tears again, but she resists it.

“I’m sorry, Jack. That was insensitive of me.”

“Don’t be sorry. You always beat yourself up for saying what other people are thinking.”

“And here I thought I was the profiler.” Jack smiles at Alana, and she returns it but they’re both nauseous so neither of them looks particularly genuine. There is a long pause after that; the humor, however dry, seems misplaced. Alana is burning with fury and all kinds of regret and loathing. She is also colossally tired and suddenly feels the wear and tear of the last few months as if it’s all fresh. She shakes her head.

“Will still tried to kill him. I don’t care what his motive was, that wasn’t right. Nothing will make that right, not even what Hannibal has done.”

“That isn’t my concern right now.” Another pause.

“You don’t have enough evidence to take him down yet, do you?”

“No.” It’s hard for Jack to admit, she can tell.

“I can help.”

“I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“No, but you need me to. Will’s out of commission now.” Or at least the Will Graham _she_ knows is gone. There is a new man walking around, wearing Will’s clothes, his face. But it isn’t him. Jack seems to understand her meaning, but doesn't address it.

“You’re one of our best,” he says simply.

“And brightest.”

“Alana, I’m serious.”

“I know you are. I’m just wondering what might have been. If you’d asked me to do this the first time, when you should have.” Jack sighs.

“Yeah, I’ve given that some thought, too.” A beat. “This isn’t an insult to your intelligence, Alana. It really isn’t, but–”

“I don’t do what Will does. I know. You were being pragmatic.”

“He saved a lot of lives.”

“At the cost of his own. And he’s taken one, now. Maybe more.”

“No, just the one.” Jack’s voice is so firm that Alana is sure he’s not completely confident in what he’s saying.

“I’ll look into referrals for Hannibal’s patients. The boy Will killed… He was one of Hannibal’s wasn’t he?” Jack nodded. “Hannibal sicced him on Will, I imagine. Coerced Will into killing. Or maybe that was just the push he needed.” Alana sees Jack’s jaw square out of the corner of her eye.

“It was self defense. Randall Tier attacked him.”

“It was self defense until Will mutilated the body.”

“He did that under our advisement.”

“I have a feeling he _justified_ it under your advisement, Jack.” She’s not pulling punches, but he’s old hat at taking them. He also knows, despite himself, that she’s right.

“He knows Hannibal Lecter better than any of us.”

“I’m not going to argue you on that.” Not anymore. Jack sighs again and gets up, sitting in the seat directly next to her. He covers her hand with one of his.

“Is there anything I can do? I’m asking as your friend, not your colleague.”

“Help me put him behind bars,” she replies flatly.

“Alana–” She silences him with a look.

“Think about how much sleep you’ve been losing over this, Jack. And now look at me and imagine how much _I_ am going to lose. Will was my friend. I know he was yours, too. Both of them were. But Hannibal was a dear friend and my mentor. Just think about what this will do to me.”

“Will isn’t lost.” Jack resists the urge to point out that she's speaking about Will in the past tense.

“Maybe not to you.” She stands. "I'll call you in the morning, Jack."

Alana only vaguely remembers driving home, and is mildly surprised when she finds herself in her driveway. Her home is unfamiliar, and when she walks inside, so is her reflection.


	2. the voices calling me

Jack is fired not long after Alana learns the truth, and as much as she just wants to stay in bed, Alana gets dressed and marches straight to Kade Prurnell’s desk.

  
“You have to get him reinstated.”

  
“Doctor Bloom. It’s a surprise to see you here, I have to say.”

  
“Kade. You have to.”

  
“Jack Crawford, who I can only _assume_ you’re talking about, broke the law.” Kade says firmly. “It’s out of my hands, now. Even if I wanted to, I can hardly just turn around and say that I changed my mind. He’s looking at jail time, they both are.”

  
“If you need to arrest Will Graham, arrest Will Graham. But do it after Hannibal Lecter is behind bars. I know that what Jack did is outside the confines of the law, Kade. I understand that. But he is doing what he has to do. You know me well enough to know that I would never condone this if I saw another way out, and neither would Jack.”

  
“So we need to break federal law– law you and I both work to uphold– to catch a criminal.”

  
“Not just a criminal,” Alana says, nausea twisting into her stomach, “a genius. Hannibal Lecter is playing a very delicate game. And there is no way to win unless we play along. Put Will in jail when this is all over. You probably should. But Jack Crawford is doing the only thing he can to end this. Isn’t that what you want? To put this to a stop?” Kade looks over Alana for a while. They lock eyes, neither flinching from her position: Kade leaning back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded in her lap, and Alana standing imposingly over Kade’s desk, palms flat on the wood.

  
“Unless they have a foolproof plan, Alana, one that _involves_ the FBI and doesn’t operate outside the law again, then I can’t help you. And they need probable cause. I mean good evidence, because if he’s the killer you say he is, we can’t afford to fuck this up.”

  
“He’s having a dinner party. Later this month, all of us are invited. Me, Jack, Will. We can get him there. He doesn’t suspect a thing, Kade. We can nail him on this, even if all we do is get some of the meat. Stool samples, maybe. Price and Zeller mentioned it.”

  
“Fine. We’ll start there.”

  
“Are you going to reinstate him?”

  
“No.” She sighs. “ _Maybe_ , if this proves to be useful. But even then it’ll be like pulling teeth.”

  
“Thank you,” Alana says firmly. With nothing else to say, she leaves.

  
Getting back into her car, she just sits there for a few moments. Alana is profoundly empty. _Must be running on fumes,_ she thinks. Logically, she knows if she puts the key into the ignition, turns it, the car will start and she can drive home. But her body is frozen; she’s paralyzed, and as much as it feels physical, she knows she’s been dealing with the onset of depression. The thing is, she’s only just admitting it. It’s the first time she’s relented and conceded to the fact that _yes_ , she is depressed. _Not again_ , she kept thinking, _not again_. But alas; again.

  
She hasn’t called her brothers yet, any of them. It’s too much effort; too much to explain without dissolving into tears or trailing off, unable to continue. And for any of them to know would be disastrous. Any one of them would compromise the whole thing without even thinking. Probably without even realizing. It’s not an option. She knows this. But there’s this itch to _call_ someone, and she knows not to ignore it because it could go away for weeks. Months. Forever.

  
Brian Zeller answers his phone in Manassas with the first Star Wars paused on the opening credits.

  
“Hi.”

  
“Alana? Hey. What’s going on?” He says it without urgency, more of a greeting, but he’s worried. He’s also an above average liar, and Alana’s much too exhausted to pick up on it.

  
“I don’t think I...” she sighs, “should be alone, right now.” Her voice is much more muted, even, than normal. Its colors come out a little more around him, Zee has noticed, when she isn’t being professional. But right now, they are all subdued by gray. He nods before answering, realizing suddenly that she can’t see through the phone.

  
“Yeah,” he says breezily, “yeah. Do you want me to come over to you, or–”

  
“I’m in the parking lot of the BAU. So I could just come to– If that’s easier.”

  
“Sure. Sure. Saves us both the drive.”

  
“Mm.” Silence on both ends. And then, “I don’t know if I should leave Applesauce… alone. I mean. I left food out…”

  
“Dogs are tough,” Zeller supplies helpfully, “I’m sure she can take it.”

  
“I got a cat,” Alana says awkwardly. “In terms of companionship, I mean… I got a cat.”

  
“There, perfect.”

  
“You think?” And there is where anxiety peeks through, and god bless her she is worrying about her dog at a time like this (which from what he has gathered is pretty dire in terms of her emotional health).

  
“Absolutely. You’re a good mom, you left her food.”

  
“I didn’t know how long I’d have to lecture Kade Prurnell. Not as long as I anticipated.” Her voice is gaining traction in regards to normalcy, but it’s a little hoarse. (It’s because she’s not taking care of herself. Alana hasn’t had a thing to drink all day. She notices that she’s analyzing herself and stops.) “She knows how this has to happen.” Zeller swallows. Alana can’t hear it through the phone.

  
“Do you, ah… Do you need directions?”

  
“GPS,” she answers vaguely.

  
“Right.” A pause. “So, I’ll see you.”

  
“Yes. _Thank you_ , Zee.”

  
And the line clicks. Her voice sounded so _warm_ , just at the end. Zeller smiles softly to himself. That woman, looking out for other when she doesn’t even realize it. It’s part of why it’s so easy to be her friend. Not all the time, but sometimes she’s able to supply just what he needs without even knowing it. Reassures him with the tone of her voice. God. What he wouldn’t give to be able to do that for her.


End file.
